


la plus belle femme de la nouvelle terre

by RoseByAnyOtherName (badxwolfxrising)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Secret Diary of a Call Girl (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 11:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15840705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badxwolfxrising/pseuds/RoseByAnyOtherName
Summary: Belle du Jour is one of the most sought after call girls in New Manhattan, but she's never allowed herself to fall in love. All that changes though when she takes on a new and mysterious client who calls himself the Doctor and she finds herself breaking her own cardinal rule when she catches feelings for him.





	la plus belle femme de la nouvelle terre

I love New New York.

I love the soaring crystalline skyscrapers, the blur of neon lights, the modern technology mimicking a more quaint time and place in space. I love the callousness, the lack of patience, the fleeting scent of apple grass mixed in with the heady perfume of street food and smog. I love my too tiny flat above the little Venusian hole-in-the-wall (they have the best post-drinking breakfast), and I love that no matter what time of day or night it is, you can always find somewhere open doing happy hour and karaoke. Most of all though, I love the anonymity, knowing that I’m just another girl walking the same streets a million others have walked before me. Every breath you take, you’re breathing in sync with a million million other creatures, all with their own lives and stories, and they’re all just living and breathing and fighting and fucking together in tandem, even though most of them are strangers, they’re still all connected by that invisible thread of blessed, painful humanity. I love the electric current of life that pulses through the city like the throb of arousal, lifting all the hairs up off the back of your neck and making your stomach tingle with anticipation. This is my home, and I don’t know that I could imagine existing and being in any other place. There is nothing like the sultry embrace of the city on a warm summer night.

The first thing you should know about me is that I’m a whore. Streetwalker, strumpet, hooker, call girl, prostitute, escort, I don’t care what you call me, that’s just semantics. There are just as many types of working girls as there are names for my profession. Just so you know, I’m the type of working girl that’s high class and expensive. Hey, we’ve all gotta find some way to pay that Little Manhattan rent that’s not actually so little, y’know? The vast majority of my clients know me as Belle du Jour-they never get to know Hannah Baxter, the girl behind the perfect coif and painted lips, and to be perfectly honest, that’s how I prefer it. Hannah and Belle, and never the twain shall meet. It’s important to keep a professional distance, to make every encounter feel intimate while remaining appropriately and professionally detached. Most of the time it’s easy-most of my clients aren’t really my type. But then he showed up, and somehow I became the one who was having trouble maintaining a professional distance. All he ever asked for was my friendship, but I was the one who wanted so much more. And of course, that’s precisely where it got complicated (and we got naked).

The most remarkable client I ever had called me Rose, and he was a time traveling alien with an old British police box for a spaceship. And believe it or not, that’s not even the most interesting part of this story.

**Author's Note:**

> When will the government stop my sinful hand?


End file.
